I could hear the phone ringing from the bathroom. I have no psychic abilities and I wasn’t expecting a call, but I had absolutely no doubt who was calling.

It was my husband.

“Hey honey, it’s me,” I heard him say to the answering machine. “Can you give me a call?”

“I’M IN THE BATHROOM!” I yelled back, as though he could hear me.

I suspect he might actually be the one with psychic abilities because he always calls when I’m in the bathroom. It’s not that I spend that much time in the bathroom or that he calls that frequently. I’d be surprised if he calls more than once a day. But that one time a day he does call, I am, without a doubt, 100% of the time, no ifs, ands, or naked butts, on the throne.

He knows this and yet many times he will call repeatedly as though I am just avoiding his call or have accidentally been sucked into a black hole.

“Hey honey, me again. Are you around? Call me.”

“Hey honey, I’ve been calling home and your cell and there’s no answer. Where are you???”

If he happens to call a fourth time, I can usually wrap things up and jump out to answer the phone before he calls 911 and the police bust into my house and knock down my bathroom door with a battering ram.

“I. Was. In. The. Bathroom.” I growled.

“Oh,” he laughed. “Sorry.”

I know he finds this hysterically funny and I suspect that he has some kind of bathroom cam that lets him know the minute I sit so he can torture me with phone calls. I used to think once the kids got older, I could go to the bathroom in peace. Little did I know I had a husband with a juvenile sense of humor lurking in the wings who thought it would be fun to interrupt my five minutes a day of alone time.

The maddening thing, of course, is that his reason for calling is almost never anything of any urgency. It’s usually to remind me to do something or get something or take care of something that I probably already did the first time he asked me to do it when I was NOT in the bathroom.

“You always call when I’m in the bathroom,” I said.

“How can I possibly know that you’re in the bathroom when I call?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know. Maybe you have a sixth toilet sense, or a hidden camera, or you trained the dog to spy on me and send you an alert.”

“So you think I’m doing it on purpose?” he wondered.

“Definitely,” I snarled.

“That’s crazy,” he responded.

“Whatever,” I said sighing. “So what was so urgent that you needed to talk to me right away?”

He snickered. “I wanted to remind you to pick up some more toilet paper.”

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